


A Small Price to Pay

by isuilde



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, SaruMi Fest 2014, Underage Smoking, Unrepentant Fluff, junior high school days, pre-HOMRA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1913136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you doing,” Saruhiko begins, but Misaki just waves his hand vaguely.</p>
<p>“Got something interesting I wanted to try, figured we should try together, if you want. Ah, found it!”</p>
<p>With a flourish, Misaki turns to him and pulls out a pack of cigarette and a lighter, beaming up at Saruhiko like he’s somehow gotten a perfect score on his math test. Which is a stupid analogy, considering Misaki’s holding <i>a pack of cigarette</i> and it is clear what he is going to do.</p>
<p>Saruhiko and Misaki, and teenagers' curiosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> Since GoRA and GOHANDS and basically everyone in the [K] team production seem hell-bent on destroying our hands, have fluff. FLUFF. FLUFF.
> 
> My first installment for [SaruMi Fest 2014](http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/sarumi%20fest%202014), which would be held for ONE WEEK this year, from July 7th to July 11th! The more contributions you have, the more chance you would have in winning the raffle, which promised fabulous prizes, not even kidding. So if you love SaruMi, if you have fanworks to share, if you want prizes, please tag them with SaruMi Fest 2014 over at tumblr, and we'll all have fun together! :D Looking forward to see your works, everyone!

The music in his left ear stutters and dies, followed by Misaki’s annoyed swear.

Saruhiko opens his eyes, eyes moving sideways to look at Misaki fiddling with his PDA. It’s frozen—that’s probably why the music stopped. There’s a deep scowl on Misaki’s face; the corners of his lips pulled down unpleasantly, eyebrows tauting and creating shadows around his eyes. Saruhiko leans sideways, lowers his head and pecks the corner of Misaki’s lips.

Misaki’s hand swats at him. “Fix this,” he demands, and it sounds more like a whine, but the sun is warm and Saruhiko’s in a really good mood somehow, so he doesn’t retaliate. He takes Misaki’s PDA, frowns a little at the unmoving screen when he slides his thumb across it, and then turns it off.

Misaki knocks the side of their heads together, huffing. “That’s like, what, the fucking fifth time today?”

“Get a new one,” Saruhiko drawls, turning the PDA back on. A bright red ERROR flashes on the screen, so he turns it off once again. Misaki shifts against his side, head now resting on Saruhiko’s shoulder as he tries to get a good look on what Saruhiko is doing with his PDA.

“Nah,” is his response after a moment. “That one’s got stuff. Can’t lose them.”

Sap, Saruhiko wants to call him, just to rile him up a little, because he knows Misaki is referring to the countless pictures, numbers, and messages saved in his PDA. He doesn’t though, maybe because today’s air reeks of laziness and it’s made him lazy as well. Instead, he jostles Misaki’s head slightly, and says, “I can transfer those to your new one.”

Misaki’s head snaps up so fast he nearly hits Saruhiko’s chin. “Really?”

Saruhiko pauses at the wide eyes looking up at him, wonders if he’d ever be able to refuse Misaki (or if he’d ever want to, really), and furthermore wonders if he should be more concerned about this. “Eat my vegetables for two months.”

“Deal,” Misaki grins, brilliant and blinding. “Fuckin’ A, Saru, thanks.” Then his expression changes, like he’s just remembered something, and Saruhiko suddenly loses Misaki’s added weight on his side as the shorter boy scrambles away from him, reaching to his backpack and starts rummaging around.

“What are you doing,” Saruhiko begins, but Misaki just waves his hand vaguely.

“Got something interesting I wanted to try, figured we should try together, if you want. Ah, found it!”

With a flourish, Misaki turns to him and pulls out a pack of cigarette and a lighter, beaming up at Saruhiko like he’s somehow gotten a perfect score on his math test. Which is a stupid analogy, considering Misaki’s holding  _a pack of cigarette_ and it is clear what he is going to do.

“Idiot,” Saruhiko tells him straight. “Where’d you got those anyway?”

Misaki scowls, but then breaks into a smirk. “No need to call me that if you’re too fucking scared to try,” he taunts, fingers pulling a cigarette out of the pack, fumbling as he tries to mimic the way smoking adults hold them. “It’s my step-dad’s anyway, not like I got it somewhere weird. Oh look, it says menthol.”

“Whatever,” Saruhiko says, turns his attention back to Misaki’s PDA. “Still stupid.”

“It’s cool!”

“It’s not, it’s trying to burn your lungs out, that’s what it is, Misaki.”

“Cowardly monkey,” Misaki accuses, settling back next to Saruhiko, shoulders and arms pressed, slipping a cigarette between his lips and snapping the lighter. Saruhiko jostles against him again, draws a garbled grumble out of Misaki, who is now focusing on lighting his cigarette.

“Go away with that,” Saruhiko says, but there’s no bite in his words, because even though he hates the smoke, Misaki’s presence beside him is warm and comforting, and inhaling toxic from the smoke is a small price to pay for that.

Misaki simply grins around the lit cigarette at him, and then, under Saruhiko’s gaze, inhales.

And promptly hacks up a string of violent coughs and swears.

“Good job,” Saruhiko says, raising an eyebrow. Misaki, already taking the cigarette away from his mouth and still coughing like he’s about to die, glares at him with watery eyes, before grimacing and goes back to coughing. Saruhiko sighs, one hand going up to pat Misaki on the back. “Idiot.”

In between hacking up the smoke in his lungs and whimpering, Misaki grits out a “Dumbass.”

“That’s you,” Saruhiko points out, and Misaki doesn’t have it in himself to pause on his coughing and retaliate.

The cigarette’s dangling uselessly on Misaki’s finger now, still lit and smoking, and Saruhiko reaches out to pry it away. He doesn’t fumble when he holds it—he knows about smoking, Saruhiko knows about a lot of things, that’s how Aya once put it, so he knows about these things, too, even though he’s never smoked in his life before, either.

He hates smokers, by the way. Doesn’t have any valid reason why, he just does. Good thing Misaki can’t handle it.

“Never again,” Misaki wheezes. Saruhiko barks a laugh, waits for Misaki’s eyes to find his own, and raises the cigarette, slipping it between his lips, tongue nearly touching the cigarette. He inhales once—huh, menthol—keeps the smoke in his mouth for a second, and watches Misaki’s eyes widen in awe.

Well, this doesn’t seem too hard.

Then he inhales the smoke into his lungs, and promptly chokes.

Misaki’s laughter is ringing in the air as Saruhiko hacks up all air from his lungs, trying to get rid of the toxic entering his body system. A hand is slapping him repeatedly on the back, Misaki’s voice filtering in his ears (“Shit, Saru, you are the dumbest person alive, idiot monkey, seriously, you said it was stupid and then you do it, what the fuck is happening in your brain, god, I love you.”).

_Well_ , Saruhiko thinks,  _a small price to pay_ .

With that, he swallows the next cough and pulls Misaki instead, pressing his lips against Misaki’s hard, until Misaki growls and kisses back, all tongue and teeth and impatience against Saruhiko’s chuckle, and it tastes faintly like menthol, but mostly disgusting smoke.

“Gross,” Misaki says when they breaks the kiss, taking the cigarette away from Saruhiko’s fingers and kills it. “Gross, gross, fucking gross.”

“Idiot,” Saruhiko says, and kisses him again.

\-----o0o-----


End file.
